


If I lay here, If I just lay here

by tototo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Birthday Fluff, Fluff, M/M, baseball field
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:51:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tototo/pseuds/tototo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tomorrow would be another day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I lay here, If I just lay here

**Author's Note:**

> If you want, you can accompany the read with this song.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RiPM2cuGLJk

August 10th. 

It had been almost three weeks since Ian was admitted to a psychiatric hospital.  
Although it had not been his choice of admission, and even though his complete lack of collaboration in the early days, now things were going well. 

The company was not bad, he had formed a good relationship with his roommate, and his brothers came to see him every day.  
His brothers and Mickey. 

Mickey. It was only thanks to him that he had decided to stay in the clinic. Had asked him.  
With tears in his eyes, he took his face in his hands and said to him, "Please, stay here." 

And he did. Not because he considered that to be the right choice for himself, but because he had trusted Mickey, as he had done the rest. 

The basic problem of his illness was that Ian had had a single instance in his entire life, and that example was his mother, Monica Gallagher.  
The woman who had abandoned his family, who had come back a few times, she had cut her wrists in the kitchen during the Thanksgiving holiday and, finally, had escaped from the psychiatric hospital where she was hospitalized (the same hospital where he was now) with his roommate, who was accused of murder. 

This was the main reason why Ian did not accept to be bipolar.  
In his family, as a result of the various episodes, Monica was treated almost exclusively as a case study and Ian was afraid that he might be the new case study of Gallagher's house.

He saw this in Lip and Fiona. Lip, the older brother who had been his best friend for a while, maybe too long time. And Fiona, the sister who had taken the responsibility to act as his mother and, at the first encounter, had proved perhaps too superficial.  
Probably the fact that they had already been in a situation with a person suffering from bipolar disorder had caused to sin of presumption to think they can handle the situation as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

 

Mickey, however, was different. Mickey did not see Ian as a case study.  
Mickey was concerned, Ian knew it. He had become an open book to him.  
He had become more gentle in manner, gestures, words. Words that chose with much more care than he had ever done, almost as if afraid of being able to hurt Ian in some way.  
Ian was grateful, not because Mickey would never be able to hurt him, or at least not anymore, but because he appreciated these small gestures that made him understand what had become important to each other. 

And today, August 10th, Ian had decided that this was the day he would not be in the clinic.  
August 10 was Mickey's birthday. Not that he had ever told him, but Ian had discovered it during an afternoon at home Milkovich, while he was playing with the playstation with Mandy. The identity card was there, leaning on the table, in the midst of papers, ashtrays and beer cans.  
He had picked it up, he hadn't observed carefully as he wanted to do. He just threw a quick glance, the time to read the date of birth.

August 10th, the night of the shooting stars. When he read it, he lost a smile. It had been only a couple of weeks since Mickey had said:  
"Christ, do you want us to spread a blanket and looking for shooting stars next?"  
So, at that time, his birthday had already passed. He had spent in jail, a few days before the evening spent together at the baseball field. 

There were no more occasions to celebrate his birthday. Neither of them would knew that Mickey would return in jain and, after that, he would marry and become a father.  
Nor even they could have imagined that Ian would leave for the Army before returning as a full-time gay dancer, as well as suffering from bipolar. 

But now that they were together, spend the day between those four walls was not exactly in his plans.  
He would have celebrated Mickey's birthday. With Mickey. Alone. Far away from everything and everyone. 

It wasn't very difficult to leave the hospital. After all, he was a Gallagher.  
It hadn't been much difficult to slip in the bathrooms of the rooms on the first floor and then sneak undisturbed by the window, when it was almost dark outside.

He was out. It did not seem real. For a moment he just stopped to enjoy the freedom that he felt he no longer had in a long time, and perhaps not enough time.

Then he walked to the baseball field. He was not sure, but he had the strange feeling that this was the place where he would find Mickey.  
Along the way, he could feel the blood pounding in his temples. It was like the first time.  
In some way, he was afraid. He was afraid of what might be his reaction, he was afraid that he would had immediately brought him to the hospital.  
Or, even, he was afraid that Mickey might behave differently from the last time they were alone.  
He was afraid to believe that Mickey would actually want to be with him.  
He had come to think that maybe, Mickey would get tired soon and that once was all over, he would have left. 

These fears were probably crowded in his thoughts for a while, fears that he denied himself to be. 

Finished close to the railings of the baseball field, he saw a shadow behind the bleachers, where they were used to spend the evenings just to have a beer or simply hanging out.  
It was him. 

Mickey Milkovich was leaning against the wall in front of the net that divided the stands by the field as he was smoking what appeared, from the smell, to be a joint while he was playing with a can of beer that was in the way. 

It was several minutes before Ian started to think about what to do. He felt out of place. He was about to go back and pretend that his momentary escape had never happend, when Mickey raised his eyes. 

It took a while for him to realize who was a few meters away. The lights of the field were strong, too strong to give a complete picture of what was around him, as well as to further accentuate the canodre skin that made him almost marble.

Then he saw him. Ian. He was not sure. He had to put a hand over his eyes to dim the light, and as he approached to him.  
On the other hand, Ian was paralyzed. He did not know what to expect. He did not know. 

"What the fuck are you doing here, Ian?" 

The words slipped out of his mouth slowly, in a tone mixed with surprise and concern, as he continued to approach him at this point in a way more fast. 

He pulled him into a hug, resting his head in the crook between the collarbone and neck, breathing deeply, as his fingers went to draw imaginary lines along the back, as if to reassure him. 

While stroking his hair, the eyes of Ian escaped a couple of tears. Tears of liberation. 

"Fuck, I missed you." 

Were his first words. Mickey pulled him even more closer to himself, as he went to kiss his neck gently. He took his time to explore his body could no longer feel his since a lot of time.  
Then he suddenly became more serious. He was worried about what might have happened to Ian. 

"You should be in the clinic, shouldn't you? They know you're here?" 

Ian gap slightly to look into his eyes. 

"No, they don'tt know I'm here. I came out of hiding." 

"Ian, we already talked about. You should not .." 

His words were interrupted by Ian's lips, who tried his greedy.  
First Mickey let it go, lulled by the tranquility that only Ian, his boyfriend, could give him.

He pushed him hard to the net, one of those gestures that indicated complicity between them, and pulled away again. He would have gone willingly, if only he had not had that strong pressure to peep in his thoughts. 

"You have to go back. You know that, right?" 

This was like a punch in the stomach. It had taken months to accept any possibile Ian's recovey. He thought he could get alone through this. It had been sure of that for so long.  
Just this thought made him feel bad.  
He wished he could do anything, whatever.  
But then, he had only had to surrender to the fact that he was not the best for him. Or at least, not in that sense. 

"I know, Mick. I know. I'll be back. Just for today. Please." 

He stroked his face with a gesture so delicate that Mickey could barely feel the touch. 

With half a sigh and look of resignation, the answer came quickly. 

"Just .. Why? Why today?" 

"Mickey. It 's your birthday." 

A half-embarrassed smile appeared on Mickey's face, while the cheeks, usually pale, color came up to became bright red. 

"Seriously, Gallagher? How the fuck do you know when it's my birthday, asshole?" 

A laugh escaped from the redhead's lips. 

"What the fuck do you care how I know. I know, it's enough! So, what do we do? We celebrate?"

He hunt out from the pocket a chocolate muffin stolen from the cafeteria. It was not much, but it was all I was able to find.  
Mickey, with a smile on his face, pulled him to himself, kissing him on the lips first, then move on to the face and neck, tasting his tongue all over who was going to touch.

"I don't have a candle, though." 

"I got it", said Mickey pulling from his pocket a joint already prepared, inserting it into the muffin on the side of the filter. 

"Just like old times, huh? Happy Birthday, Mick." 

He planted a kiss on his mouth, gently biting his lower lip. Then Ian lit the "candle" and passed it to Mickey, being careful to feel the electricity that crossed their fingers simply brushing, and went on, with a grin printed on his face: 

"So you want us to stretch a blanket and looking for shooting stars next?" 

'How the fuck did he remember it', it was all Mickey was thought. But of course, he didn't say it. 

"Well, apparently, it seems that we have not blankets here." 

"Come on, Princess. Since when you're afraid to get dirty your dress?" 

He took him by the hand and dragged him over the net, to the camp. Then he sat down and yanked him, almost made him fall. 

Then they lay back. Mickey was still smoking the joint, while the other hand was tighten around Ian's.  
They stayed like this for a while, in silence, barely touching and looking at the sky above them. 

They would've stayed like this forever, if they only have could. 

"I missed you too, Gallagher." 

Ian turned to him, resting his head on his shoulder, after having brushing his lips for a kiss sketch. 

"I'm afraid, Mickey." 

"Don't, Ian. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I am here." Mickey said, kissing him on the forehead. 

"For how long you'll be there? How long? What if tomorrow you'll figure out that this is not what you want? And if .." 

Mickey' turned around, looking into his eyes firmly.  
He couldn't believe this was possible. How was it possible that Ian had not yet figured out how much he cared about him? 

"Why would you think such a thing?" 

Silence.  
Only the grip in the fingers that was becoming more thight around his.

"Ian. Listen to me. I'm here because I want to be here. That 's what I always wanted. You are what you've always wanted. The fact that you are sick is not an obstacle for me, but the fact that I'm still here, that I'm still here for you, should make you understand what I want. It may take days, weeks, even months, but you can be sure that what I want will not change. I couldn't change it before, certainly will not happen now. 

"And when I say that I couldn't before doesn't mean that I didn't want you. I wanted to protect you from those who are the horrors of Milkovich's house and which you, unfortunately, are able to be a part of since that day when we were discovered.  
I want you to be safe. And it's everything I ever wanted. That 's what I want it now. "

Some tears flowed from the eyes of Ian him, slinking to scratch the face. 

"I'm sorry. I did not want to .." 

"Shh, Ian. Okay. You were right, after all. I'm not exactly the type that says all that feels every minute, right? But you already know that." 

"Fuck you, Mickey."

They smiled at each other, slowly.  
They went back to look at the stars, Mickey's arm closed around the warm body next to his,Ian's head still resting on his shoulder, while his fingers went to draw squiggles on the white skin.

Then, a shooting star. 

"Make a wish, Ian." 

"Make one yourself, Mick." 

They both closed their eyes, and they remained like that for what could be one second or one hour. Their breathings were slow and regular perfectly synchronized and Ian, who had moved his head a few inches on Mickey's chest, was listening to his heartbeats just a little bit accelerated. 

They could've stayed like this forever. 

"I can't believe it, fuck." was Mickey's comment.

Ian opened his eyes trying to figure out what he meant. He turned his head toward him, just enough to look into his eyes. 

"You can't believe what, exactly?"

The corners of his mouth drooped slightly, while he was carefully choosing the words he was about to say. 

"Well, Ian. I don't think I've ever really known that. I mean, how I could. But if it's just like I think it is .. for what it's worth at least .." 

He paused for a moment. 

"I think I love you."

Christ. He had said. Seriously? He had said. 

Ian's eyes lit up. 

"See? It was not so hard to admit it, after all." 

He was smiling. They were smiling. 

"Fuck, Gallagher." 

They exchanged a kiss. And then another, and another. Ian stepped back for a moment. 

"Mickey. It worth. It worth more than you can even imagine. And, for what it's worth too, I love you. I love you too." 

Mickey was, at that point, the one who get close again. They resumed kissing softly. Although it had been a few weeks since the last time, they began to undress.  
They knew all too well one's body, fondling each other along the main issues. Back, neck, stomach, thighs. It fitted neatly together. 

Tomorrow would be another day.  
Tomorrow Ian would return to the clinic, God knows what they would have invented.  
Tomorrow Ian would return to the clinic, but with the awareness of having Mickey that loved him and that he would be next to him, always. 

Now he knew it.


End file.
